


What Is And What Should Never be

by TGP



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Accidental First Time, Angst, Kidfic, Kon is kind of lost, M/M, Mpreg, Tim is kind of crazy, Tim is not coping well, slow build romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TGP/pseuds/TGP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Kon?” he still finds himself asking when they’re alone, which is actually the first time they have been alone since- well, since a lot of things happened. Kon looks up from the movie and Tim takes a moment to appreciate his vivid, living, blue eyes. If he had the chance, he would stare at them for the rest of his life. “Have you ever thought about having kids?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I got it into my head to write a Kon/Tim mpreg. Because why not. Unfortunately, I had read some awesome ones at some point… and copied from it without realizing. This is a very bad thing to do! So, when I realized that, I let the story sit for a while and glared at it like a terrible puppy. 
> 
> It took a while for me to stop feeing guilty about it. Seriously, it’s a terrible thing to do! Finally, though, I settled down to rewrite what needed to be because I still wanted to write a Kon/Tim mpreg. Most of the text has been subtly quirked but is mostly the same. A few things have been pulled out or changed completely, but there wasn’t too much work I had to do to get it not to directly reference the other story (yay!) There is still crossover here and there but nothing major. 
> 
> I’m still a LITTLE BIT paranoid that I might have nabbed more from some one else… This is why I should never write stories in a fandom I’m currently reading. Because *facepalm*
> 
> By the way, the other story is awesome and a lot more fun than this and you should read it.
> 
> Things We’ve Handed Down http://archiveofourown.org/series/11878 by FridaysChild

Tim is crazy. He knows this very well but comforts himself in knowing that Bruce is crazier. The problem with both their kind of crazy is that it makes them very, very good at what they do so they don’t fix it. They’re fearless, imaginative, and ruthless. Tim likes to think he’s less ruthless than Bruce, but he knows he’s getting closer every day.  
   
Tim, knowing he is crazy, does his best to keep it in his own head. He doesn’t want to think about what the others might say. There was already plenty of talk about therapy after the deaths of his most important people. He doesn’t think any therapist could really handle what was going on in there any better than he can. Thankfully, Tim is good at compartmentalization. Not as good as Bruce, but he’s working on it. It keeps his mind clear, lets him focus on cases and find the little details that save the day. He got used to this when Bruce was d- when Bruce was lost, and now that Bruce is back, he’s still a little too good at doing it alone.  
   
One of Tim’s earliest life lessons was how to do things alone. And that was before figuring out who Batman was and joining the fight. It comes naturally. So this new challenge he would take on the same way he always did. By himself. For himself.  
   
But…

 

There are things more terrifying than he can handle alone. Even Tim can admit that to himself. He has to admit his weaknesses because otherwise he will be ruled by unknown factors and he can’t let that happen. Tim has to know, has to be sure. He can’t just run headlong into things. He can’t just _hope_. Maybe Dick can but Tim has never been the kind of Robin Dick was. He isn’t even the kind of Robin he used to be. The kind of Robin he is now… Well.

 

Tim is the kind of Robin that, more than ever, does everything himself.

 

“Kon?” he still finds himself asking when they’re alone, which is actually the first time they have been alone since- well, since a lot of things happened. Kon looks up from the movie and Tim takes a moment to appreciate his vivid, _living_ , blue eyes. If he had the chance, he would stare at them for the rest of his life. “Have you ever thought about having kids?”

 

Kon is notably startled. Not that Tim blames him. Usually, Tim would never think to ask this, but he’s recently had need to think about it himself. Because- Well. Because. Not that he really wants to think about that but- He is. He’s thinking too much, as usual, and he can’t run away from it.

 

“Uh. I guess? Someday.”

 

Tim can understand that. They’re young enough that it seems… unreal. Not impossible, of course, just… Well. Tim still thinks of himself as a kid, even if he watches over himself and Bruce has given him near full autonomy.

 

“I mean, maybe.” Kon looks off, idly scratching at his chin. He’s still uncomfortable. He’s that way more than not around Tim now. “But not soon… Or… Well, if I meet the right girl-”

 

He cuts himself off and shoots Tim a sudden glance. It’s full of caution, a touch of shame, and a heap of shit, I didn’t mean to say that . Tim kind of expected that, but not so much the gut punch the words feel like. He should expect that, he really should, but he doesn’t. And he doesn’t run from how badly that hurts because… Tim can’t. He can’t stop thinking about it and hurting himself and getting stronger for it.

 

Kon looks away again and Tim knows exactly what he’s thinking about. It’s something they haven’t talked about. Would probably never talk about. Tim understands. It was a bad judgment call on both their parts. They’ve been awkward since. Tim just hoped they could manage to not be awkward, but he’s losing that hope. Especially since- But. Yes. They’re awkward. And he doesn’t think it will really get any better. Tim knows better. The odds don’t add up well towards a full reestablishment of their friendship.

 

“Right,” he finds himself saying and Kon stares at him again, searching for… Tim isn’t sure what. He’s not sure he wants to know, except yes he does. He wants that more than anything. “When you meet the right girl.”

 

Kon hesitates. He isn’t usually careful with his words, but since _then_ , he never seems to know what to say. He’s either trying to save what friendship they have now or trying to figure out a way to end it. Tim’s not sure. He doesn’t even quite know which he’d prefer at this point.  

 

Tim finds it funny that this is worst than admitting he tried to clone Kon when he was dead. But he guesses that’s less a scary memory to Kon so much as just something he happens to know about. Then again, before _this_ , Kon had just thought he was his crazy best friend. Now, Tim is… Well.

 

He feels like his stomach is sinking into his feet. It’s becoming physically damaging to be around Kon for long, even as they try to grasp at the weakening straws of their friendship. Tim sighs. It isn’t as if he expected anything different. And he knows that the things he has lost because of what they did are probably never coming back. Kon can’t forget it and can’t reconcile what he knows and what they did. He can’t let it go. Tim gets up and feels Kon following him with his eyes.

 

“Where are you going?” Kon asks and there’s an odd moment where he looks both disappointed and relieved at the same time. Tim hates him a little for that. And then he doesn’t and just hurts.

 

Tim just heads for the door. “I’ve got homework to finish up. See you around.”

 

“…Yeah.”

 

Tim doesn’t look back and Kon doesn’t stop him.

 

The trip home doesn’t take nearly as long as Tim wishes it had. He’d like longer to think, even if thinking doesn’t really make him feel any better. He hasn’t felt good since Leslie gave him the bad news. No, if he’s honest with himself, he hasn’t felt good since he woke up that morning to Kon zipping out the window at full speed.

 

In his room, Tim stands in front of his mirror. He hesitates, then pushes his shirt up and stares at his belly. He brushes his fingers along the chiseled muscle and fading scars as if doing so will erase what’s happening inside him. He wants to. He wants to stop this and go back to… what, exactly? Because he can’t go back to what he had, what _they_ had. Not when every time he looks at Kon, he remembers and so does Kon. What they had is gone. It’s not coming back. He needs to get over that.

 

Tim knows he doesn’t have long before this will take him out of commission. When Bruce figures it out- Well, if he hasn’t already stolen into Leslie’s office to look at her findings himself. Leslie has forbidden it, but Bruce and boundaries have never gone well together, if the boundaries are supposed to contain him, rather than be imposed on others.

 

But.

 

When Bruce finds out, he’ll know what to do. Bruce always does. Tim can trust that, at least. Sort of. He pets his fingers over his belly again and pretends like he doesn’t hear the door open and someone step into the threshold. But he does let his shirt fall into place again.

 

“She’ll test you again.”

 

“She’s tested me six times. You’ve seen the paperwork,” Tim responds without turning around. He doesn’t need to see the firm line Bruce’s lips are set in. Bruce is a shadow far behind him in the mirror.

 

“What are your plans?”

 

Tim thinks about that. Because he’s still not sure what they are. He realizes then that he been a little numb to the issue since Leslie told him. “Hide in Hawaii and pretend I’m a normal person?”

 

“Tim.” It’s not Bruce now. That’s Batman’s low, stern tone, and Robin turns to face him. In a flash, Robin has figured out what to do the way Tim couldn’t. Thinking the way Tim hasn’t been able to since he found out.

 

“Seclusion would be best until this is over,” he says. “Leslie can handle the end. In the meantime, we will decide on a suitable place.”

 

He doesn’t say home because even Robin knows that home is with Tim, but that’s not happening. It’s just not.

 

Batman slips for a moment and the look in Bruce’s eyes is almost sympathetic. But also understanding. And then Batman says what Bruce would never be able to bring himself to utter. “There is the other option.”

 

Robin already told Tim about that option. And Tim can’t. He just can’t. Leslie said the same thing and while Tim believes in free choice, there is no choice for him. He can’t. He just keeps thinking about Kon and him and what they made and Tim knows he’s lost Kon, but he has _this_. He has this.

 

Batman narrows his eyes as Tim’s fingers curl in his shirt, right above his belly. Then he nods and Bruce understands as well as Batman does. Tim relaxes. Bruce leaves him and Tim looks back down at his flat belly. He almost believes he can see through it to the thing growing inside him that should never have been able to.

 

It’s a pity. Tim almost wishes he could keep Kon’s baby. It would be something far more tangible than their fractured friendship. But maybe that’s why he knows it can’t happen that way. Tim will bear the child and if it survives, he’ll give it away because being raised by him would be a terrible thing to do to anyone.

 

Tim is crazy. He understands this better than anyone.

 

\---

 

Tim Drake Wayne’s public persona is not what the playboy Bruce Wayne’s is. There is no way he would escape for months on end. But while he isn’t a recluse, his appearances were few and far between. Dick handles most of the poster-boy-for-adopted-families bit just fine on his own while Tim keeps with college-boy-in-training. Damian had settled into the rich-little-rascal.

 

As Tim-the-college-boy-in-training, his absence is explained as a mentorship abroad with someone suitably reputable and completely made up. He would be gone for four months, submitting his regular school work online so that he didn’t have to halt his education. The mentorship would look good on his college application, sitting tidily next to his community service hours and various extracurricular activities. Just another letter of merit to join the rest once this was over. Sometimes, the media would catch sight of him shopping in town and he made sure to smile for the cameras but quickly got back to his tasks.

 

The real Tim Drake had disappeared without a trace. His various appearances over the next few months are that of the Martian Manhunter, who doesn’t really know why Batman wants him to, but does it anyway because Batman had actually said the word _please_. (At the end. After a long pause and a much shorter explanation of what he was to do.) He supposes it has something to do with why Red Robin is MIA, but no one is explaining that one. As far as he knows, no one but Batman is sure what’s going on. Even Nightwing and Robin seem clueless on the matter. He doesn’t read Batman’s mind only because the man swears Red Robin is well and will return soon. Even the Justice League isn’t above keeping secrets.

 

Kon, however is not satisfied with this explanation. All he can think about is the look on Tim’s face the last time Kon saw him before he disappeared. The one he tried so hard to hide, but Kon knows how to read Tim better than anyone. Probably better than Batman. He keeps seeing the way Tim’s eyes widened just enough, how he took a quick, silent breath, how his hands twitched just barely against his knees. Kon hurt him, knew exactly how, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

 

He should have known something was wrong. Since… _that_ , Tim hadn’t spent much time alone with him. Kon doesn’t blame him, awkward as they are. Sometimes he doesn’t really want to be around Tim either. He wishes he’d never…

 

But he kind of _doesn’t_. Because when he’s alone at night, he can still hear the way Tim moaned when he touched him and how easy it was to lose themselves in it. They still shouldn’t have done it, but he can’t make himself regret the actual night. Tim had needed it. And… maybe Kon had, too. It had been hot and good and he’d felt connected with someone in a way he didn’t know he wanted. He still doesn’t know if he does want it, though, because that’s _terrifying._ Seeing Tim, all of Tim, in way more senses than just the physical… and letting Tim see _him_ … He can’t take that. So yeah, it felt good but... Nothing is worth losing his best friend.

 

Kon scratches back through his hair and tries not to get paranoid. Tim had been gone a month without any word that hadn’t been fabricated. It makes Kon wonder if even Batman really knows where Tim was. He’d broken down a week ago and cased the place Tim Drake is supposed to be, but there wasn’t anything going on there and certainly no sign of Tim.

 

He isn’t usually paranoid, but Kon keeps thinking about terrible things that could have happened. Tim could be sick, some kind of freak plague or poisoned or… Or he could be hurt and recovering alone (Kon has heard about the time Batman’s back was broken by one of his insane enemies and has constantly lived with the fear that Tim might suffer something similar.) Tim isn’t meta and, while he’s very well trained, he’s fragile. He’s _human_. It isn’t something Kon likes thinking about, but he’s spent time without his powers. He knows what that feels like, how very weak it can be. And maybe it’s not so bad for Tim, since he was born that way, but Kon never wants to feel powerless again.

 

By the second month, Kon is actively looking for him. He tails Batman as much as he can, even though he’s always caught. He bothers Clark and the rest of the league. He even tries to scope out the entire world with his budding super hearing, trying to find Tim’s voice, and only ends up with a splitting headache for his troubles.

 

Kon isn’t accustomed to complete and total failure, but he’s almost ready to give up by the time the third month begins. He starts wondering if Tim is actually dead and Batman just doesn’t want to tell anyone yet. Maybe Tim’s in a coma and Batman is working on some super cure to wake him up…

 

Somehow, he ends up face to face with Batman and just can’t contain himself.

 

“ _Where is he_.” Kon’s almost surprised at the dark flatness of his own voice.

Batman’s expression is completely inscrutable from the mask and the firm set of his mouth. He is definitely not going to be intimidated by a teenager, and certainly not by Kon, no matter how mad he is. And Kon is more than just mad. He’s terrified and enraged, a mixture even he knows is dangerous.

 

“Robin will return in two months,” he says simply and the tone of it means the conversation is over, but when he tries to turn and go, Kon grabs the edge of his cape. Which is a stupid move and a second later, faster than he can follow, Kon’s on the ground with a knee in his back that puts way more pressure than he would expect and didn’t someone tell him Batman was a normal human? Because no normal human can put Kon down like this. It knocks the wind out of him and then he feels sick to his stomach in the way that always makes him think of green light.

 

“Don’t think I won’t put you down if it’s needed,” Batman says and his voice is so very cold that he doesn’t even have to call him _clone_ to get the point across. “I am in no mood to deal with your questions-”

 

“Bruce, stop.”

 

Kon winces as he recognizes Clark’s voice and feels a moment of mortification that he’s getting saved. But the pressure against his back lets up, the nausea disappears, and Batman straightens, drawing away to leave. Kon gets to his feet and doesn’t follow, mostly because he can feel Clark’s eyes on him. The weight of his gaze is heavier than Batman’s knee against his back.

 

“He’s a little testy right now,” Clark murmurs sheepishly and Kon can’t help shooting him a dirty look as he swallows the lump in his throat.

 

“You think?”

 

Kon tries not to cave at the sympathetic look on Clark’s face. “Conner, leave him be. He’s under a lot of stress right now with-”

 

Clark cuts himself off but Kon’s on him in a moment, hands clenched in the front of his suit. “You know, don’t you? Where Tim is? What’s going on? Tell me!”

 

“I’m sorry. I can’t tell you that,” Clark says with a soft sigh as he starts untangling his shirt from Kon’s shaking fingers. “He asked for absolute confidentiality. You understand that, right? But when he comes back, I’ve asked that he talk to you. It’s important for the both of you.”

 

Kon lets Clark pat his back and direct him back outside. He doesn’t want to, but Clark seems so honestly regretful. And he probably is.

 

\---

 

Tim wakes up to the strangest sensation of tickling fingers inside his lungs that he has had to get used to in the last month. He gasps a bit, shuddering as the tickling feeling continues for several minutes and causes his lungs to flutter and clench air from them in a ragged rhythm. The tickling traveling across his ribs and then into his belly, which makes it churn. He almost gets sick but manages to stave it off until the tickling stops.  
   
The baby is awake. And now, so is Tim.  
   
Sitting up, Tim rests a hand over his belly and gives the clock on his bedside a glance. It’s not even five in the morning yet. He glares at the bulge under his hand and mutters something obscene as the baby apparently decides now would be a great time to do a couple back flips. It makes him nauseas, but most things do, and Tim privately thinks the baby likes that. Maybe it gets a kick out of doing so.  
   
Tim gets up and waddles his way to relieve himself before finding something in the kitchen. He’s ravenous most of the time, when he isn’t puking his guts out. Leslie figures the continual puking is his body’s way of kicking his ass for putting it in this condition. There’s not much she can do about it since the baby causes most of his discomfort and it isn’t like his body is really equipped for this. Leslie’s thrown up her hands trying to figure out just why his body has been able to sustain the infant or where the womb even came from, because there is a full, working womb inside of him, or at least something resembling it enough to work. The x-rays make Tim shudder, but having Clark Kent blush and stammer and be completely unhinged trying to explain is worse.

 

Tim had let Clark talk because Clark is a respected hero, an adult, and Batman’s best friend (even if Batman, not Bruce, will never admit it). He just wasn’t able to actually listen to much. Clark is terrible at talking about things that make him uncomfortable and all he really succeeded in was making Tim more paranoid and afraid than he already was.

Tim’s not just scared. He’s terrified. And it’s worse every time he feels the telltale brush of ghostly fingers in his insides.

 

Tim’s going to kill Kon when this is over. TTK is not something anyone wants inside of them. Tim grimaces as the baby tickles his lungs again and leaves him wheezing. He tries to tell himself that this is worth it, but it isn’t. Not really.  
   
At least the baby’s TTK isn’t strong enough to actually hurt him. It’s just annoying. Like the way his feet are sore and swollen and he hates Kon so very much right now, even though he’d really like to see-  
   
Tim catches himself and stares intently at the open bottle of mayo, blinking quickly a few times to keep from getting emotional about that. His emotions are as wild as his hormones. No way were guys supposed to go through this. Leslie, thankfully, has only patted his shoulder and not said anything about manning up, which he’s profoundly grateful for.

 

He’s grateful for everything she’s doing for him. Finding him a place to hide, monitoring his condition, bringing him mindless action flicks to counteract his random crying fits because Tim is a guy and sometimes he needs to remind himself of that even though he knows that’s stupid… She’s the best. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to repay her-

Tim lurches, grabbing hold of the counter with one hand and his belly with the other, as the baby does another somersault. Neither of them is sure, but both he and Leslie wonder if the kid’s already got some edging of super strength the way it manages to push Tim around. Which doesn’t bode well. But as long as the baby doesn’t punch out of his belly via alien movie, Tim’s okay.

 

Mostly.

 

Except when he’s staring at a half made sandwich and missing his best friend, who probably doesn’t even think of them as best friends anymore because Tim is an idiot who lost control and did something terribly stupid. He covers his eyes with his hand and just wishes so much Kon was there anyway. Kon could laugh at him and call him ridiculous names and be a total bastard, and Tim would still enjoy seeing him. Because while Leslie is very nice and visits him since Bruce can’t compromise his position, Tim is still very much alone.

 

And he can deal with that. He can. He just…

 

His feet just really hurt. Tim finishes the sandwiches and carries the plate back into the bedroom to curl up there, eat, and catch some of the underwater documentary series that’s been marathoning all day. For some reason, the monotone voice of the narrator and the sounds of the ocean calm the baby enough that Tim can sleep. It works and Tim dozes off for another few hours before Leslie comes in to check on him.

 

At the end of the day, after Leslie’s visit and assurance that he isn’t losing control of his own body and it will get better and _get a grip, Tim_ , he sits down on his bed again and stares at his belly. The baby is restful, causing no trouble for now.

 

“I hate you,” Tim mutters but he isn’t sure if it’s true. He doesn’t really want to think about the alternative. The baby doesn’t seem to notice either way. Tim shifts to rest against the headboard with a pillow at his lower back.

 

“You’re more trouble than you’re worth.” That one sounds better. “And I hope you’re ugly.”

 

Then he pauses and feels a sudden wave of depression. In his mind, he can see an infant that looks just like Kon and feels the irrational need to keep it, held tight in his hands, even though he had no illusions about being a parent, especially by himself. He can do most things that way, but he is not subjecting a child to his solitary parenting.

 

Tim wonders what his father would think about this. Then he wonders what Bruce _does_ think, because he hasn’t said anything. But he also hasn’t visited. And then Tim decides maybe he should just go back to watching TV until this entire debacle is over.


	2. Chapter 2

The welcome back party is right on schedule, a week after Tim Drake’s return to Gotham. Robin smiles and accepts hugs with an uncomfortably tenseness, and generally lets the Titans and everyone else fuss over him. He says he’s been sick and, honestly, he looks it. Tim’s exhaustion is easy to see in his posture and his skin is pale. He spends most of the party sitting on a stool and sipping punch. In a way, he almost seems injured, the way he’s moving as little as possible, and stiffly when he does.  
   
Kon keeps his distance for most of the party, but he’s almost vibrating with energy. He wants to strip Tim down and check every inch of him to make sure he’s really okay. He doesn’t believe for a second that Tim’s just been sick. It’s too much of a cover up. Besides, something that could put Tim down that long should have been League business with everyone working their asses off to find a miracle cure. And who knows? Maybe they had and just didn’t see the point in letting him know.

 

Most of the League really hates him. And Kon hates them _more_. Except he doesn’t but he really wishes he did.  
   
There’s movement near Tim: Stephanie. Kon kind of hates her for getting close to him. She looks concerned, head leaned in close to keep her voice private. Kon shamelessly listens anyway.  
   
“Shouldn’t you be resting?” she asks and Tim grimaces a little.  
   
“I’ve rested enough.”  
   
“Bullshit,” she retorted, mouth turning at the edges. “Tim, this isn’t something you just bounce back from. Especially after surgery-”  
   
“I’m fine, Steph.” He doesn’t sound fine, but the tone is stern. Dismissive. Kon knows that tone way better than he should with how many times he heard it when they were running around as Young Justice. So does she, apparently, because she realizes needling him isn’t working and wanders off again. Kon kind of wants to hit her because it’s obvious she’s in on the secret when he, the best friend, should have been. If they’re even friends anymore.  
   
He waits until the party is winding down. Tim looks about ready to drop, which is why they call it quits, and Kon volunteers himself to show Tim to his room. That earns him a dirty look, but Kon ignores it and Tim gives up. Which just shows how tired he really is.  
   
 _Surgery_ echos in Kon’s head as they walk through the familiar halls of the Tower. Tim’s old room had been freshened up in case he wanted to stay and Kon is definitely not giving him the option not to. He doesn’t want to even think of the possibility of Tim getting hurt on his way home because he’s tired and recovering from getting cut into.

 

Ugh, the very thought makes him queasy.  
   
As the door closes behind them, shutting them away from the rest, Kon watches Tim straighten up, gathering his strength for the conversation both of them know they’ll be having but that Kon didn’t realize he was going to start until the moment he does.

 

“What the hell is going on, Tim?”

 

“You should sit down.”

 

Kon is surprised, mostly because he figured he’d have to fight to get even the barest slip of information. So, he sits down on the window ledge and waits patiently as Tim looks at everything except him. It takes a while, but Tim finally says something, even if it kind of blindsides him.

 

“Do you know if Kryptonian men can impregnate human men?”

 

For a few seconds, Kon has no idea how to respond. “ _What?_ ”

 

“The testing base is too small to know for sure how it could work and Clark goes into hysterics every time someone mentions it out loud,” Tim continues as if it was nothing special, but he’s started pacing and his hands are tight fists at his sides. “It doesn’t seem to be something naturally occurring within the Kryptonian population, so the working theory is maybe it’s some kind of adaption for breeding with similar species but Clark’s never had it happen before with male partners-”

 

And oh god, Kon never wanted to think about Clark having gay sex, thank you, who would he even- Justice League maybe- oh _god_ , he is going to need to scrub his brain with bleach and he’ll never be able to look J’onn in the face again as long as he lives.

 

“-maybe some exposure to other planets’ flora and fauna that can plant a seed to be fertilized later, but the League doesn’t know why it wouldn’t be caught in the tox screens we go through when coming back planet side, so it could be something local, maybe a mutagen of some kind-”

 

“Wait!” Kon throws out his hands and Tim’s mouth slams shuts with the clink of teeth. “Wait, wait, what the hell? Why are you telling me this? Why do you even know that? Tell me what’s going on because the way this sounds is that someone…”

 

Tim finally looks at him. He’s silent and his gaze is inscrutable through the fogged lenses of his mask. He stands straight and tall and doesn’t even fidget as Kon lets the pieces fall into their horrible, terrible places.

 

Oh. _Oh_.

 

“Oh.” Kon feels like he’s been hit by a truck made out of kryptonite. Multiple times. And maybe flattened by a giant after. His jaw might be on the ground. “You- Oh fuck, are you seriously telling me you…”

 

It isn’t a visible change so much as something Kon can feel. Tim just looks at him and a mask falls over his expression, smoothing it out. Protecting him from being hurt. Because Kon has become someone who can, who _will_ hurt him, and Kon hates that even through the fog of shock.

 

“It’s taken care of,” Robin says, getting to the point. “There’s nothing you have to do. This changes nothing between us.”

 

“Are you _nuts?!_ ” Kon’s on his feet and has Robin by the shoulders before he can blink, even though he knows it only happens because Robin let him. Because human or not, Robin could flatten Kon if he wanted. “Of course this changes things! You- I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! ”

 

Robin is silent, his mouth pressed in a firm line until Kon shakes him hard. And then he just looks queasy and pale and sick. Kon lets him go as if he were burned because he can’t- in this state, he might really hurt him. His hands clench and shake and he doesn’t know if he’s more hurt or mad so he settles on mad because it’s easier.

 

“I could have helped you out!” Kon continues angrily. “That’s what best friends do, you stunted moron!”

 

There’s a pause and Tim looks at him again and Robin is gone. Even through the mask, Kon knows Tim’s hoping, letting him see deeper again, the way he used to. “Are we?”

 

“Are we _what?_ ” Kon snaps back, this close to punching him despite the fatigue.

 

“Best friends.”

 

And that makes Kon deflate a little. Okay, a _lot_. For a moment, he’s angry and wants to demand why Tim would ever have to ask that. And then he knows why and he’s angry anyway because this is half his fault and he really, really hates that.

 

“Yes,” he growls savagely. “Yes we are.”

 

Tim sags a bit, as if the entire night is finally coming crashing down on him. Kon takes his arm and makes him sit his stupid ass down. He settles down next to him and drops his hands into his lap. For a while, they just stay like that. Everything seems so big and crazy and stupid. Kon can’ believe the situations he gets himself into sometimes and this one… He’s pretty sure this is actually mostly his fault. He’s the one that drove Tim away, scared him, because Kon couldn’t deal with what happened.

 

Couldn’t deal with what he maybe does want.

 

“Boy or girl?” Kon asks and ignores the way his voice is kind of tight and funny.

 

Tim draws in a tight, quiet breath. He doesn’t look up from his lap. “Boy.”

 

“Oh.” Kon nods a little at nothing. It’s kind of hard to imagine what the kid must look like. Right now, his mental picture is his body with Tim’s head on it. Not exactly accurate. “Where is he?”

 

“Under observation with my doctor.” That makes Kon tense up but Tim grabs his arm lightly and adds, “There’s nothing wrong with him. She just running a few tests to make sure of that. It’s not like there’s much precedence for this. Clark let her study his DNA but…”

 

Kon relaxes a little. Tim lets go and looks back to his lap. After a little while, Kon quietly offers, “If it would help, she can look at mine. I mean, half human here.”

 

Tim has to know how much that costs him. Kon’s leery of even the most curiouser look at his genetic makeup. It’s a gift, more than anything else and Tim understands. He gets it. Tim nods a little.

 

“Thank you. I’ll ask her if it will.”

 

In the end, they just sit in silence for a long time before Kon gets up and goes to fly for a while. He needs to clear his head and figure out what to do. But mostly, he needs to not lose his shit in front of anyone.

 

\---

 

Even though he’s exhausted, Tim doesn’t rest well at the Tower. He heads home before sunup and then crashes in his own bed at the manor for a few hours. It’s strange, being back here after so long, but welcomed. He curls a hand over his belly. It won’t be back to perfection for a few weeks, maybe months, but it’s flatter now. Which is… weird. Not exactly good.  
   
It’s not that Tim misses the baby being inside him. He doesn’t. He isn’t really sure he’ll miss the baby once he’s found a good home for him. But he did carry him for several months. And now he’s not. And it’s weird. Tim runs his fingers lower and pauses at the stitches from his c-section. It’s only been a week. It’ll be another yet before they’re gone. It’s an odd reminder. Tim counts them as his finger brushes along the clean line. That scar will be the cleanest one he has. He feels strange about having it at all. It a way, it’s a mark of something fantastical that he shared with Kon, but at the same time… It’s a reminder of his lack of control and stupid teenage wants. He knows he’ll have to get himself back into shape, physically, mentally, and spiritually.  
   
When Tim finally gets to sleep, his dreams are a nebulous spiral into what some people would call nightmares and he calls Halloween in Gotham. They don’t really disturb him but he wakes up unrested. He gets up anyway. It’s midday and he’s not really hungry but he eats anyway. He hasn’t been hungry since the surgery. Leslie said he might end up dealing with some depression during his recovery, but he’s fine.  
   
He is.  
   
The manor seems deserted when he finishes his meal, but he’s not surprised. It’s early enough that Damian is probably still asleep and Bruce either is the same or at some meeting. It’s the weekend, but you never knew. For a moment, Tim thinks about calling Dick or Steph and then squishes that idea because those two are definitely still asleep. So, instead, he plops himself down in front of the TV like he’s been doing for months and kind of half dozes, half zones out.  
   
A call from Leslie wakes him soon enough.  
   
“Where are you? I expected you here an hour ago!”  
   
Tim checks the time. He doesn’t remember having an appointment but the way he is right now – damaged – he isn’t too surprised. He started forgetting appointments a lot before the surgery. “Sorry. I’ll be there soon.”

 

It doesn’t take long to get to her office and then without preamble she leads him right to…

 

The baby.

 

Tim stares at the infant for a while until Leslie lets out an exaggerated sigh and shoves him close enough to touch, if he wanted to. He doesn’t, doesn’t touch and doesn’t want to. “My god, Tim, give him some attention. You’re his father-”

 

“Mother,” Tim says even though it’s not funny in the least and his belly feels tight and painful and empty. But the baby’s clear blue eyes stare right up at him, pinning him in place. His arms wiggle about aimlessly and he makes a noise but it doesn’t seem to have purpose.

 

Tim wonders if he’s a terrible person because he does not love this child. He doesn’t. Not really. He’s not even overly fond of it. He doesn’t feel the well of parental love everyone on TV seems to. It’s just… This… The baby does look like Kon. It’s the color of his eyes and the nose, mostly. The eye shape is all Tim. There’s dark hair, thin and mussed, but that could have been either of them. Whatever caused the child had blended them pretty well.

 

Finally, Tim reaches out and runs his fingers along the baby’s cheek. The baby gurgles in response and wiggles ineffectually in the cradle. Leslie steps over and gathers the baby up blankets and all before depositing him in Tim’s arms. Tim goes stock still with the sudden terror that he might drop the kid. He might not love him, but he certainly doesn’t want harm to come to him. And holding him… The warm weight in his arms is heavier than he’d thought it would be but it’s not bad. And he can feel a heartbeat through the tiny hand resting against his fingers. He lets out a very slow breath, trying to calm himself down.

 

“There you go,” Leslie murmurs, leading Tim over to a chair to sit down. He adjusts the baby a bit. “Now then. Have you settled on a name?”

 

“I…”

 

Tim hasn’t. He’s tried not to. It’s like with a puppy. If he names it, he’ll get attached. And the plan is to not get attached, which he is doing remarkably well in his opinion-

 

Tiny fingers curl around one of his own. Tim goes still and just stares as the baby grips his finger and tugs at it with another gurgling noise. The baby is too young to smile, but Tim knows this is making him happy. He swallows a sudden lump in his throat.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Tim looks up and realizes his vision is a little glassy. Oh.

 

_Oh._

“I don’t know.”

 

Leslie’s face turns with sympathy and she pats his shoulder. “Whatever you decide.”

He hadn’t even realized there was a decision to make. Tim stares back down at the baby, who looks right back at him with his eyes and Kon’s nose and a thatch of messy black hair. He wants to cry but he doesn’t. He can’t. He sits and stares as the child slips into sleep and suddenly wants what he should never have.

 

It’s hours before he returns to the manor and by then, Bruce and Damian are around. Tim avoids them and goes to curl up in his room. He needs quiet and he needs to think because he keeps imagining what it could be like.

 

He’s shaken. This was supposed to be easy. So easy. It wasn’t like he could actually raise a kid, even if Bruce helped. He’s too young and he’s _crazy_. Too in his head and living too dangerous a life and completely, utterly unprepared and unfit! And… And…

 

He would screw up. And the baby would suffer because of it. And he can’t deal with that.

 

Tim doesn’t know how long he spends worrying about it before Bruce comes in and sits on the edge of the bed. For a little while, neither of them speak or move. Tim doesn’t know how to even start this conversation.

 

“Leslie told me you were in need of emotional ballast,” Batman says finally and somehow, Tim manages to dredge up Robin and sits up to face him because Robin will never turn away.

 

“I am rethinking finding an adoptive family,” Robin admits. Batman doesn’t look pleased, but he fads off soon enough.

 

“There hasn’t been an infant in this house since I was born,” murmurs Bruce and it sounds almost wistful. In the way that it wasn’t wistful at all but more regretful. Tim wonders if Bruce is thinking about Damian and feels a new stab of pain.

 

“Talk me out of it,” Tim pleads without looking at him. He doesn’t see Bruce’s expression, but he can guess it when he feels Bruce’s hand on his shoulder, giving a soft squeeze.

 

“I can’t do that. I’d like to, but I can’t.”

 

Tim sits up and looks at his hands. He rests one over his stomach and his fingers clench in the fabric of his worn t-shirt. “I didn’t care before. I didn’t.”

 

Bruce nods but he has nothing to say.

 

“He’d be better off with another family. Safer.” Tim is rambling a little, which doesn’t really make him feel any better. “I mean, who knows if Damian might decide to kill me after all.”

 

“He outgrew that,” Bruce admonishes gently.

 

“You _think_.”

 

Bruce sighs but there’s amusement on his face and Tim does feel better. He doesn’t thank Bruce because that would be embarrassing, but he does appreciate his presence. Surely he knows that because Bruce knows just about everything.

 

Tim realizes he needs to talk to Kon again, even though he’s not looking forward to it. But Kon should probably have a say in all this. So, Tim sends him a message and then waits.

 

\---

 

Kon is, uh, not okay.

 

Like at all.

 

Like not even close.

 

He spends the night pacing in a cornfield or staring at the stars or flying around at random. And then he flies around some more as the sun comes up and replenishes his energy stores. He’s still tired, of course, but he can’t seem to make himself lay down somewhere and rest. He’s…

 

 _Fuck_ , Tim had a _baby-_

 

Tim had _his_ baby.

 

It’s like he’d gotten up yesterday in Bizarro land or some kind of soap opera. _Days of our Lives: Meta Edition_. Too much to handle. Not only had he screwed up his friendship with Tim by, uh, _screwing him_ _like they might die(again) tomorrow_ , he’s also managed to make things worse by having some weird kyrptonian impossible-man-baby-making sperm(maybe, because it could be an alien man-baby-making plant, right?) Beautiful.

God, his life sucks.

 

He’s about ready to tear his hair out by the time Clark shows up. He finds Kon perched in a tree, sitting on the highest branch that could hold his weight. Clark sighs softly.

 

“Maybe we should try this on the ground.”

 

Kon doesn’t know what, exactly, Clark means to try, but a helplessly hysterical giggle escapes him and he decides to do what he says anyway. Kon settles himself on the grass and Clark sits next to him, taking off his glasses to fiddle with them a bit. He seems as nervous as Kon feels.

 

“I know this is a lot to take in-”

 

“You _think?!”_

 

 Clark gives him a look that’s all Superman and Kon shuts up on reflex. Which is probably a good thing.

 

“This is a lot to take in,” Clark starts again, “but you can get through this. Both you and Tim.”

 

“And the baby.”

 

“…And the baby.”

 

The pause is what Kon notices and he immediately starts thinking about what terrible things could have befallen the infant. Or even the not so terrible things. He realized he didn’t even know what Tim planned to do, if he was going to keep the baby-

 

“Kon, calm down,” Clark says, getting him focused on the outside world again. “It’s still early. You and Tim have time to decide what you’re going to do.”

 

Kon lets out another little laugh and rakes a hand back through his short hair. Right. Okay. Yeah. Time to decide. That’s really going to help a lot. _Not_. Kon wants to break something but he doesn’t. He tries to think things out rationally but he keeps thinking about Tim and the baby and Tim and everything…

 

“I should talk to Tim.”

 

Clark nodded. “Yes. I think you should.”

 

God, he doesn’t even know what he _wants_ Tim to do with the baby. And it’s that thought that finally brings Kon to Gotham and, by proxy, Wayne Manor. It’s after night fall, so he isn’t surprised that there’s only one person skulking around other than that weird ass butler of theirs that doesn’t seem to sleep at all. If Tim was still on the mend, even Batman wouldn’t make him work. Kon tries not to think about that, though, and instead is somewhat glad that they’ll be alone.

 

Kon goes right to Tim’s window. He almost just sneaks in, but remembers last second that this is _Batman’s_ house. He would so not put it past Batman to electrify the damn windows. So, he gets some rocks from the ground and goes up to toss a few, but the window is already open and Tim stares back at him. Tim’s face is blank, controlled. Waiting.

 

“Hey,” Kon says awkwardly. Tim lifts a hand and waves his fingers a bit. Then he steps back so Kon can come inside. When Tim doesn’t close the window after him, Kon is ridiculously comforted. He can still get away if he wants to. If he needs to. “Uh. So…”

 

Tim waits because that’s what he _does_. But his eyes are more intent than Kon has seen in a really long time. He’s not just waiting for waiting’s sake. He’s waiting for Kon. To see what Kon had decided.

 

“So. The baby.”

 

“What about it?”

 

Sheesh, the guy could give him an inch, but Tim’s face is completely impassive even without the Robin mask. “Uh. It’s- _he’s_ …”

 

“With Leslie.”

 

“Right.” Kon scratched through his hair a bit. Then the questions just kind of _explode_ out: “What are you gonna do with him? I mean, he’s gonna be adopted, right? Did you find someone already? Is he meta? I mean, he’d have to be, right? Fourth Kyrptonian.”

 

Tim blinked a little, but that doesn’t tell Kon anything because it’s slow, deliberate. Then Tim folds his arms and even though his face doesn’t change, Kon knows the set of his body. Something hurt and then some anger, with Tim resolute in not broadcasting it even though he is. And it could be a ploy, something to get Kon’s sympathy, but there is something achingly real about it.

 

“He’s staying here,” Tim replies finally and his voice is steadier than it has any right.

 

“Wait, so _Batman_ is raising him?! Are you nuts?! Batman is not raising my kid!”

 

Tim’s jaw clenches. “ _Bruce_ is a good caretaker-”

 

“He’s _insane_ , Tim, a guy that just-”

 

“-who trained us to handle anything thrown at us-”

 

“-turns kids into soldiers and I don’t want that for my-”

 

“-and he’s not just yours, so you don’t get the final say!”

 

Kon stops short and just looks at him. _Really_ looks at him. Tim is this close to losing his shit. Kon can tell by the way he can actually read emotion in his face. Tim is barely keeping it together. He’s just as nervous and wavering and afraid as Kon is.

 

“So what _is_ the final say?” Kon asks quietly.

 

“Whatever _I_ decide,” Tim replies, cold and harsh and a little savage. As if he’s daring Kon to disagree with him. “He’ll stay _here_ , with _me_ , and _I_ will be raising him.”

 

Kon feels kind of blindsided. Kind of terrified and also kind of relieved because he really hadn’t liked the thought of Tim just throwing away their kid, even if Kon had no intention of raising it himself. He didn’t know the first thing about raising babies. It wasn’t like he had much experience in being raised! Well, other than Ma and Pa Kent… And Clark, when he wasn’t being a total douchetard.

 

“Okay,” Kon says finally and Tim relaxes, just a little. Not nearly enough to be out of sudden heart attack range. “Okay, he stays here. Can I see him?”

 

Tim searches his face for something and Kon isn’t sure what he finds, but he seems to relax a little more. “Yes. Tomorrow. I have to go pick him up.”

 

“Okay. Cool. Um.” Kon fidgets a little. “So, I’ll come by tomorrow night.”

 

“Fine.”

 

They stare at each other for another few minutes and then Kon climbs through the window. Tim closes it behind him. Instead of just leaving, Kon hovers just above the mansion. He stares towards Tim’s window, his concentration sharpening, and then he sees through the wall. And something kind of breaks in him.

 

Tim sits on his bed, his head in his hands. He’s not crying, but his fingers are tight in his hair. Reeling in way too many feelings. Getting his Tim-equilibrium back. Because Tim can’t handle being that out of control. His world doesn’t work that way. Tim needs to be controlled and thinking and smooth and right now he’s not.

 

Kon’s seen this before, but he doesn’t remember ever causing it. And he doesn’t like it, but he can’t think of anything to help. He knows Tim will get himself fixed up on his own. So he heads home and tries not to think about what he’s just seen, or worry about what will happen tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

Tim didn’t expect the relief he’d feel after he gets the baby into the manor that night, where it’s safe and secure. And with _him_. Where he belongs. The carrier feels heavy with responsibility and even after he sets it down beside his bed, he can feel the weight of it. The baby sleeps soundly through it and Tim takes the opportunity to glance around his room. He notices the tiny traces of someone being in, probably Alfred for cleaning and tidying, but also the big red flags.

 

Like the crib, set between two bookshelves, equally away from the window and door and only two feet from the end of his bed. Tim can appreciate the positioning and he’s pretty sure Bruce did it. There is also a new lock on his window and…No, it’s an entirely new window now that he looks at it. How could he miss that…? Tim steps over to get a better look and snorts when he figures out what kind of glass it is. If Bruce had his way, this room wouldn’t _have_ a window, so Tim supposes bullet proof settings are his next option. He wonders a moment why the rest of the windows of the manor aren’t similar but who knows when it comes to Bruce.

 

Bruce is crazy like a fox. There’s probably a good reason why most of the windows are normal, one Tim doesn’t feel the energy to probe just right now.

 

Instead, he inspects the changing table and shelf of supplies someone has put next to his door. It’s all neat and tidy and on the first shelf are a few books on raising babies that he hasn’t read yet. One looks curiously well-loved and aged. Tim takes it down and flips it open. He doesn’t even have to check the date to know how old it is. Inscribed on the back of the front cover in tidy scrawl is ‘Martha Wayne’. Tim swallows thickly and then returns the book to the shelf. He doesn’t know if it was Bruce or Alfred that placed the book there and isn’t sure if it would be proper to ask.

 

The baby makes a noise and Tim’s there a moment later, but it’s nothing. The child continues to sleep. Tim lifts the carrier and sets it on the bed, carefully undoing the safety straps. The baby looks so tiny nestled in his blanket and with the slightly too big cap. He’s almost gotten up the courage to extract the child from the carrier when he hears a commotion downstairs. With a bit more hurry, Tim lifts the baby up and settles him against his chest, careful to keep the blanket around him, then heads down to see what’s going on.

 

Kon is at the door. Tim takes a moment to find this very strange, then realizes Bruce is the one that answered the door. His hand is still on the knob and his thick body blocks most of the entrance. And Tim can see Kon’s pale face over Bruce’s shoulder, looking as if he’s seeing death himself. Tim understands. It isn’t Bruce that had answered the door. It’s Batman.

 

“Look, I know you hate me and all,” Kon is saying, standing up straight and tall even though it’s easy to see that he’s pretty damn intimidated, okay _terrified_ , “but Tim said I could come and-”

 

Kon cuts off suddenly as Batman leans close. Tim doesn’t know what’s being said, but he definitely sees the reaction. Kon goes white as milk for a few moments and then he flushes with anger. But, somehow, he knows to contain it. Batman straightens up and lets go of the knob, stepping aside. Kon waits a second before he takes the tense invitation inside.

 

Then the baby gurgles and both of them immediately lock their gazes onto him. Tim tenses, shifting his weight into a more defensible position and firming his hold on the child in case he has to run. Then he realizes what he’s doing and forces himself to relax. Batman has receded and there’s a soft, if awkward look in Bruce’s eyes. Kon, though…

 

Kon is just staring at him. Well, at them. Because his eyes keep shifting from Tim’s face to the bundle of blankets in his arms and its intent and strange and complicated. Tim swallows thickly.

 

“Come on up,” he says and then heads back to his room. He doesn’t hear Kon but knows he’s being followed.

 

Tim sets the baby in his crib and glances back just as Kon touches down near the door and closes it behind him. He stays there, looking rather nervous.

 

“So that’s him?” Kon asks even though yes, of course it is, who else would it be?

 

Tim nods. He hesitates a moment, then waves Kon over. Kon’s steps are slow as he makes his way to the side of the crib and looks in. An odd look crosses his face. Tim isn’t sure what’s going through his mind, what he’s seeing, but it’s… It takes his breath away.

 

“He’s tiny,” Kon says, voice oddly clenched. “Are they supposed to be that tiny?”

 

“He’s undersized,” Tim replies. “But healthy.”

 

Slowly, Kon sticks a hand over the railing and brushes the tip of his finger lightly along the baby’s cheek, not even indenting it. The infant’s face twists a little and then settles easily enough.

 

“You’re not going to hurt him,” Tim murmurs quietly. Kon shoots him a look that’s half annoyed why-are-you-such-a-moron and half nerves. Because Kon could hurt him. He could hurt him easily just by forgetting how strong he is.

 

“I could,” he says and his tone is firm, echoing Tim’s thoughts. He looks back at the baby. “I could hurt him. I mean, sometimes I don’t… Sometimes I just get so…”

 

He does a vague gesture with both hands and then sags. “It could happen.”

 

Tim wishes he knew what to say to comfort him, but he doesn’t. It _could_ happen. And he’s not sure, after _that night_ , what he’s allowed to do for Kon. What he’s allowed to soothe. He wants to touch him, maybe give his shoulder a squeeze, but he doesn’t. He wouldn’t be able to take it if Kon shrugged him off. Not now.

 

“What’s his name?” Kon asks after a while. He’s still watching the kid and not Tim. Which is… painful, in a way. But he can deal.

 

“I haven’t named him yet,” Tim admits. He’s got a few names he’s thought of, but somehow, he can’t make himself choose without at least asking Kon. He just… hasn’t asked yet.

 

“Kid needs a name,” Kon murmurs, his voice oddly far away. He’s quiet for a little while before he continues, “You could name him after your folks, I guess. Your dad?”

 

Tim had thought about that. Jack is a good name, but when he tries to call the baby that, it feels wrong. He thought about Kon’s parents but it would be _really_ weird to call his baby Clark or Alexander. Once, he thought about Jonathan or Thomas. And then decided no on those, too.

 

“He’s a little too unique to be named after our parents,” Tim said softly. Kon glanced at him, as if he were trying to read him. But then he just nodded, cracking a nervous little grin.

 

“Okay, so…” Kon trailed off, watching him. “Any ideas?”

 

Tim hesitated. He looked down to the baby because he wasn’t sure he could meet Kon’s eyes right now.

 

“Maybe… Michael? Gabriel maybe. Raphael?”

 

Kon snorts. “You are not naming my kid after a Ninja Turtle, dude. I gotta put my foot down on that.

 

“They end in –el sounds. Like-” Tim stops because he hadn’t meant to elaborate, had just done so without thinking, but now Kon is silent and very, very still. Tim can’t look at him. He wishes he could disappear. He wishes he was wearing his _cape._

 

“Like me and Clark,” Kon says finally and his voice is so very soft that Tim almost misses it. He doesn’t answer because his throat is suddenly tight and dry, rebelling. It’s too sentimental and it’s a stupid idea and he should have kept his mouth shut-

 

“…Michael is okay.”

 

Slowly, Tim looks up. Kon is watching him, a little nervous but holding his ground. His cheeks are flushed at the sudden attention. Slowly, Tim just nods.

 

\---

 

Kon shows up at Clark’s tiny apartment in Metropolis with as much forewarning as he ever gives. Which is none. But Clark still sleepily opens the window for him.

 

“Batman hates me,” he says out of the blue, thinking back to when he’d answered the door. Kon had gone to the front door, figuring if his kid was living there then he should try to be more polite or something, but that had obviously backfired. “I swear he’s probably got a few tons of kryptonite hanging around just waiting for me.”

 

“He probably does,” Clark agrees groggily, rather amused despite having obviously just woken up. “But I think that’s as much for me as you. He’s nothing if not fully prepared.”

 

“He’s crazy, that’s what he is,” Kon mutters.

 

Clark gives a helpless little smile. “He’s had a hard life. And… Most people from Gotham have.”

 

Kon might not be as quick as Tim, but he’s not stupid. He understands what Clark means. And yeah, Tim’s kind of crazy in his own way. Like how he went and had a baby and didn’t tell him about it until after- Kon closes his eyes. He’s not getting mad about that, not here with Clark. He’s not. But he _is_ going to talk to Tim about that sometime when they aren’t all weird. When they can be bros like they used to be.

 

“Maybe it’s the smog,” Kon says, and then slumps his way over to the first horizontal surface he meets, which happens to be a kitchen counter. Clark says nothing about him sitting on the edge of it, even if there is a bit of disapproval there. Kon figures it’s more for his lack of manners than Kon being there because Clark keeps telling him that Kon can come to him with problems. “Batman basically said he’d string me up by my balls if anything happened.”

 

Clark gave a little cough. “Sounds like Bruce.”

 

“What’s with him, anyway? Like, multiple personalities or something? Because I swear to god, he went from normal to psycho in a second flat.”

 

“They don’t call it that anymore,” Clark says, shaking his head. “But no. I think he’s just… very good at compartmentalization.”

 

“Do you think Tim might go nuts one day? I mean, he does that whole push-it-to-the-back-of-my-head-forever thing too.”

 

Clark studies his face a moment. “No, Kon. I don’t think he will. Tim isn’t like Bruce. If he was going to follow the same path, it would have happened years ago.”

 

“Right.” Which is ridiculously comforting for some reason Kon can’t fathom.

 

Clark leans against the wall across from him, arms folded over his chest. “Kon, not that I don’t like seeing you, but what’s this really about? I’m pretty sure you didn’t come here just to complain about Batman.”

 

He’s right, of course, but Kon fiddles with a worn patch in the knee of his jeans instead of answering at first. It’s kind of embarrassing and he’s… also kind of terrified of asking. But he remembers Tim’s expression and the weird nervous hope in his voice and the words just blurt out, “Can my kid be related to us?”

 

Clark looks at him like his head just exploded. And maybe it did but Kon’s not quite crazy enough to check.

 

“I’m not sure I understand the question,” Clark replies carefully, managing to sound a lot less weirded out than he is.

 

“I mean, name wise,” Kon explains, gesturing uselessly with his hands. “The last name. Is that allowed?”

 

Clark still looked bewildered. “You want your son to be a Kent?”

 

“ _No!_ I mean, well, but Tim’s already- that’s not what I mean.” Kon scratches through his hair. “I mean, an _El_. Kal-El, Kon-El… Mik-El?”

 

Understanding dawns on Clark. And then he looks just a little sad. “Of course that’s allowed.”

 

Kon sags with relief and stares at his hanging feet. He can feel Clark’s eyes burning into him but he can’t make himself lift his gaze, not when he’s pretty sure Clark knows what’s going on inside his head.

 

“Kon, why wouldn’t you think that’d be okay?” he asks instead and his voice is soft, gentle. It’s asking Kon to explain what he already knows.

 

Kon doesn’t look at him. “Because- well. You know.”

 

“I obviously don’t,” Clark retorts, but it’s not harsh. And maybe he doesn’t know but Kon really doubts that. This feels like one of Clark’s trust exercises. “Talk to me.”

 

Instead, Kon kicks his feet a little. He looks at the floor, and then the light on the ceiling, and then idly scratches at something dried on the counter. He doesn’t want to talk about this. He doesn’t want to show Clark his weaknesses, even though Clark knows them better than he does. There’s still a distance between them and Kon feels it keenly no matter how long they spend together. He knows what he is.

 

“Kon,” Clark says softly.

 

“Well… you know. The thing with…” Kon hesitates, and then manages, “With Luthor.”

 

“Because you’re only half my clone,” Clark elaborates and Kon shrugs a shoulder inelegantly. With a heavy sigh, Clark pinches between his eyes and then said firmly, “Kon, I don’t care that half your DNA is Lex Luthor’s. You’re…”

 

Kon looks at him, waiting. It takes Clark a moment before he finally finishes, “You’re my _son_ , Kon.”

 

They’re quiet a while. It’s the first time Clark has said anything like that out loud, or at least to Kon. Even though he gave Kon a Kryptonian name, his own family surname, which had been a way huger deal than Kon likes to admit, he hadn’t really _claimed_ him.

 

It’s a strange feeling.

 

“Oh,” Kon says finally. He sounds a little hollow. “Cool.”

 

Clark snorts, shaking his head a little. “So, have you two decided on a name, then?”

 

“Michael.” Kon picks at the dried stuff on the counter again. “Mik-El. It sounds like it, see?”

 

“It does,” Clark agrees. “It’s a good name.”

 

“Yeah. I figure he’ll be okay for school and stuff. No one is going to mess with a kid named Michael Wayne.”

 

Clark chuckles quietly and a weight lifts off Kon’s shoulders. He feels light and maybe a little dizzy for it. Dropping his hands between his knees, Kon picks at the worn patch a bit more. Then he pushes off the counter and settles back onto his feet.

 

“Well, while this has been kind of mortifying, afterschool special like, I think I’m going to go take a crack at getting some sleep,” Kon says as he heads back for the window.

 

“Kon,” Clark calls and Kon pauses, glancing back. He feels flayed open and raw and he’s not sure he can handle anymore right now. “You’re always welcome to visit.”

 

“Yeah, I…” He forgets what smart remark he was going to say because Clark gives him a soft smile that undoes him completely. Flushing and not quite knowing why, Kon looks off again. “Right. I’ll remember that.”

 

He heads out the window and thinks he hears Clark close it behind him, but doesn’t check.

 

\---

 

Michael won’t stop crying. He’s got Tim at his wit’s end, trying to soothe the baby back to calm again. Tim has changed his diaper, fed him, rocked him, even tried singing to him, which ended badly because he’s nearly tone deaf. Nothing works. Michael is almost purple from upset, his face wet from tears, and he’s cried so long that he’s hiccupping and choking on his own breath.

 

Tim knew he wouldn’t be good at this, but he hadn’t thought he’d fail _this_ badly.

 

The door opens and Damian storms in, still in his uniform. It’s almost dawn. He’s just finished his patrol and his face is speckled with what looks like blood. He looks like death warmed up. Wordlessly, Damian glares at him and holds out his gloved hands. It takes Tim a moment to realize what he means and then he’s struck with the irrational fear that Damian might actually do something to harm the baby.

 

“Drake,” Damian grounds out, lips twisting unpleasantly. Tim holds Michael a little closer even as his cries rise in volume. Damian narrows his eyes. “For hell’s sake, Drake, I’m not going to hurt your _kid!_ ”

 

And… Damian’s voice is just a touch tight. As if he felt hurt. Tim isn’t quite sure what to think about that or the way he can see it echoing in Damian’s eyes. He barely notices when he finally hands the screaming infant over.

 

Damian is surprisingly gentle. He’s careful to support Michael’s head and tucks his cap on more securely as he starts slowly rocking the kid. It’s the strangest thing Tim has ever seen. And within moments, Michael has quieted. He hiccups and whines a little but instead of crying, he’s staring up at Damian as the older boy walks around with a slow, smooth pace, murmuring something that sounds like Arabic.

 

Tim sits down at the edge of his bed. He’s suddenly devastated. _Damian_ , who’d been raised an assassin and is Ras Al Ghul’s grandson, and is so screwed up Freud would have a field day, is better at this parenting thing than Tim is. He blinks a few times and does his best to block those stupid feelings of unworthiness because he would die before letting Damian see him cry.

 

Damian glances at him and then turns his attention back to the kid he’s better with than Tim is.

 

Tim covers his eyes. He knows what this is, excess hormones and the post-partum Leslie warned him about, but it’s hard to fight. Michael didn’t even have a _name_ for the first ten days of his life and Tim barely spent any time with him the first week. That doesn’t explain why Damian seems to find this easy but it does point to why Tim sucks so much.

 

“Drake,” Damian says suddenly without looking at him. Tim glances up and watches Damian shift his weight from one foot to the other, rocking his whole body slow and easy. “Nut up and be a man already. You’re acting like a victim. It’s embarrassing to watch.”

 

“Shut up,” Tim shoots back but it’s without conviction. Because he is, he knows that, but he hates to hear Damian point it out. He’s too tired to just ignore him. “Just shut up. I don’t want to hear it.”

 

“Tough.” Damian shifts Michael to rest against his chest and shoulder and Tim realizes the kid’s sound asleep. “Look, Drake, not that I want to do you any favors, but if the brat keeps me up, I’m taking it out of you. So get your act together.”

  
“You think this is easy?!” Tim hisses out, frustrated but at least having enough sense to keep himself quiet. He’s not about to wake Michael now. “That I’m not trying?!”

 

Damian looks at him, not at all impressed. “You think I _care?_ Kids aren’t hard to figure out, especially this young. You need a bulleted list or something?”

 

Tim jolts to his feet. He almost yells at the punk but reigns himself back. If it weren’t for how frustrated he is, how long it’s been since he got any good sleep, or even how screwed up things still are with Kon, he wouldn’t react like this. But he’s at the end of the line. He hasn’t felt this close to breaking down since his father died. Tim closes his eyes and takes in a slow breath, trying to calm himself. When he’s able to look at Damian again, the kid is ignoring him and rubbing one gloved hand up and down Michael’s back as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

 

“Where did you learn that?” Tim can’t help but ask once he trusts his voice.

 

“Some of the underlings had kids,” Damien says with a careful shrug. “Sometimes I played with them.”

 

If he weren’t seeing this precise moment, Tim might have thought he meant something completely different in his drawling tone, something dark and unsavory, but Damian always manages to come across as the most terrible person possible. He nods a little and then starts to reach for Michael when Damian adds, “And I remember Mother holding me like this.”

 

Tim doesn’t really know what to say to that. It’s not often Damian lets down his guard and says something meaningful, especially about his mother. And Damian makes sure to give him a stiff glare after, as if to threaten him into silence. Tim nods mutely, agreeing to it, and then Damian cautiously transfers Michael into Tim’s arms. The infant makes a little whine but once he’s up against Tim’s warm chest, he settles.

 

“Now keep him that way,” Damian grumbles as he turns and heads out as abruptly as he’d entered. However, he pauses at the door for a parting shot, “Babies smell fear, Drake. You stay calm, he will.”

 

And then he’s gone.

 

Tim isn’t sure how to feel about that little exchange. He glances down to Michael and then sits on the bed, leaning against the headboard. As long as the baby sleeps, Tim’s calm. If only he’d _stay_ that way…

 

“You can’t keep doing this to me,” Tim murmurs softly as he pets the back of Michael’s short neck under the lip of his cap. “I’m not the kind of person that gets thrown off base like this. I’m a _Robin._ ”

 

Michael, of course, ignores him. But Tim feels a little better anyway. He rubs his fingers down Michael’s back, feeling every rise and fall of his breathing. Even though he’s terrified of all this and feels overwhelmed, he finds himself relaxing and with him, Michael seems to be settling into an even better sleep.

 

Babies smell fear, Damian had said. Maybe he’s right, but Tim has lost too much pride that night to admit it to the younger boy’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus the end of what was already written/rewritten. Now on to new stuff. Woooo.


End file.
